When the delicate fingers of sunlight hits your vines like
strands of hair entangled in itself, you shine like flower slowly sheading your
petals from your face. Dark chocolate like skin shines with vanilla like purity
when those lips curve in a smile. A broad smile; bit by bit showing your
crystal like soul. The eyes coal like showing your heart full of embraces and
love for the world. When I gaze at you, you fill up my every void.
(This is purely fiction and please don't report this to my parents ;p) .. My fantasies were coated by perfect men from books who spoke perfect words to flow the hem of my skirt and the strings of my heart. These men knew every poem ever written and every fairytale ever told. These men loved children and respected women. These men were crafted from a woman's pencil. I longed for these men. Painful to realize a real man is made of dirt and dust. They are made up of rhythmless tunes and mismatched words. They are clever yet need help to understand their feelings. They make me grip my hair and groan in distress. I could never find a prince of books. Then I got a man. Perfect at see but flawed at saw. These hip of imperfections could not match my dreams. Mismatch at its finest. 1 don't want to see but I observe and am curious. Who is this? Who is he who dreams of me? One of his kind, I dare say. The open arms invite me and hug me so tight, it's difficult to breathe. Actions...
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